


let your heart be light (25 days of dean and cas)

by myaimistrue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester Fluff, Fix-It, Future Fic, Holidays, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Jack Kline and Claire Novak are Like Siblings, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Snow, Winter, very very mild hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 19,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaimistrue/pseuds/myaimistrue
Summary: “I think we did a pretty damn good job,” Dean said.“I do too.” The Christmas tree glowed splendidly in the low light, and Cas almost couldn’t look away. To him, it seemed to represent everything about their lives now, how happy they were, and how far they’d come from all the fights and anger and death that came before. One singular sign that they had made it. “Add decorating Christmas trees to the list of things we kick ass at.”25 days of short and sweet Christmas stories involving the retired lives of Dean and Cas! Each day will be based on a holiday-related prompt.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 135
Kudos: 130





	1. lights

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy this! I thought it would be a fun challenge for the holiday season. Plus, I'm a sucker for holiday fluff, and these two deserve a bunch of it after everything they've been through. All of these will be less than 1000 words, and they'll all be pretty light-hearted and sweet. 
> 
> Also wanted to add that while these all take place in the same universe, they are not chronological or in any particular order. Each drabble stands alone! Skip around if you like :)
> 
> Check back for updates daily!

Dean’s intentions had been so good.

He and Cas had been out for a drive one evening, something they did a lot now that they weren't hunting anymore. On weekends, they’d get in Baby and just go for hours. Dean would play mixtapes for Cas, and Cas would attempt to switch to Top 40 radio at every opportunity, and they’d weave their way through the surrounding areas. They sometimes stopped at little diners, and other places they thought were interesting; Cas made him stop to investigate particular flowers all the time. It didn’t matter, though, because they were in no rush. It was just good to be together. 

That evening, they’d passed through some backwoods small town, the kind with a little Mainstreet and one stoplight. They had gone all out for Christmas: everything was covered in lights and wreaths and garlands. Personally, Dean found it obnoxious to decorate like that, especially since Thanksgiving had barely been a week ago. He had glanced over at Cas to make a joke about it and felt his heart stutter in his chest at the sight of him. Cas had been looking out the window with wide eyes, an earnest and lovely expression on his face. The multicolored lights painted the contours of his face in a rainbow.

“It’s a lot, huh?” Dean had managed. “Bright.”

“Yes.” Cas had smiled then, a sweet, wistful smile. “I’ve always liked how humans celebrate holidays with decorations. Especially the lights… it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. Even though Cas himself was human now, there were moments like these, in the half-darkness and glittering lights, where he looked otherworldly. “Yeah, it is.”

So the next day, Dean had gone to Walmart and bought as many lights as he could get his hands on. He stashed them under the false bottom in Baby’s trunk, and called Jack, who was more than happy to help (“Cas will love that! I love that!”). He got tickets for some Christmas movie marathon at a local theater for him and Cas to go see that weekend, and it was supposed to take all day.

Everything was planned perfectly- except for the fact that the hanging of the lights was a disaster. Dean had underestimated his abilities. He’d almost fallen to his death multiple times, it was freezing outside, and the lights kept falling from where he’d affixed them. The careful pattern he had envisioned ended up more like a mess.

Now, he was standing on a half-inch of snow, looking up at his handiwork. The lights blinked down at him, hanging crookedly off of their house, mocking him. He wondered if he could take them all down before Cas got back.

But of course, that was when his car pulled into the driveway. Dean grinned sheepishly as Cas got out of the car, hoping he could find something to like in the shoddy display. Cas surveyed the house in disbelief as he stepped over to Dean, feet crunching in the snow. Dean couldn’t get a read on if he liked it.

“You said you liked the lights, when we were driving back last weekend,” Dean said haltingly, not quite sure how to vocalize it, not quite sure if Cas was about to laugh in his face. “And how humans celebrate. And, well, you’re human now, and I thought… well, I fucked it up, but I thought you’d like this.”

Cas turned to face Dean, and his face broke into the kind of smile that Dean lived for. His dark hair, messy as always, was almost iridescent in the shimmering light. Otherworldly. “I love it. I love you.”

Relief bloomed in Dean’s chest. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Cas said, laughing a little. “Dean, this is amazing.”

Dean kissed him, and when they separated, he kept his arm slung around Cas’s waist as they both surveyed the clumps of tangled lights half-falling off of their house. “I guess it turned out alright. It might be a fire hazard, but other than that…”

“We’ll survive.” Cas seemed like he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the lights, and Dean had to smile at that. “Thank you, for this.”

Dean pressed another quick kiss to Cas’s jaw. “‘Course.” The pain in his back from the muscle he pulled, the risk of death by fall from a ladder, the hours of work for the final chaos of lights, all of it, was worth it. All of it was worth it to see Cas smile like this, to see the blinking lights reflecting in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First day, done!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Happy holidays :)


	2. hot chocolate

Dean and Cas stepped inside the cafe, a gust of cold air bursting in behind them. Cas dusted the snow off Dean’s coat as Dean glanced around at the small place, full of mismatched furniture and warm lighting. People sat together, chatting quietly. Books and magazines piled high on almost every available surface.

Frankly, it was a little pretentious for Dean’s taste. He wasn’t really a fan of the whole fancy coffee names on a chalkboard thing, preferring a simple diner menu, but this was Cas’s new favorite place in town. He’d been trying to get Dean to come with him for weeks, gushing about the hot chocolate. Dean couldn’t help but give in and come along. Figured that Cas would get a hot chocolate at a place like this.

The barista, a young woman with long braids and a nose piercing, brightened as soon as she saw them walk in, waving at Cas.

“Hello, Zoey,” He said as they walked to the counter. “How are you?”

“I’m great,” She responded, but her attention was focused solely on Dean. She gave him an appraising look and grinned. “Wow. This must be the famous Dean.”

Dean looked to Cas, who just smiled sheepishly. “I may have mentioned you a few times.”

Zoey laughed at that. “A few times? You mention him every time you come in here. Dean did this, Dean said that… it’s be annoying if it was so sweet.”

Cas flushed a little. Dean looked at him and smiled happily. “He’s a sweet guy.”

“Definitely,” She said. “I take it you want your usual, Cas?”

“Yes, and make it two.” He nudged Dean. “I want him to give it a try.”

“You like hot chocolate?” Zoe asked him.

Dean chuckled. “Uh, no. Not usually. But Cas likes it, and it’s the season, right?”

“Right. Nothing says Christmas like hot chocolate,” Zoey said absently, tapping on the cash register. “Except for maybe two free ones for my favorite customer and his date.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Cas said.

“Of course I do.” She winked and motioned toward two cushy chairs by the window. “Go sit down. I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

So they did, and as Dean settled into his chair, he said, “She’s nice.”

“She is. I enjoy her,” Cas said. He picked up a magazine on the coffee table in front of them.

It was quiet for a moment, Cas flipping through the magazine and Dean looking at the snow falling gently outside. He kept glancing over at Cas, who was clearly making an effort to avoid his gaze. They both knew what was coming.

“So,” Dean finally said. He couldn’t help the shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “I’m all you talk about?”

Cas sighed. “I knew you’d latch on to that.”

Dean put his hands behind his head and reclined in his seat. “I bet I’m famous here. All the baristas know about Dean, the elusive and handsome man Cas just can’t shut up about it.”

Cas looked up from the magazine, blue eyes piercing right into Dean. “You really want to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Need I mention what happened with Chris from the shop?”

Dammnit, Dean had forgotten about that. “That’s different.”

“Oh, yes, you’re right,” Cas said, leaning toward him. “You weren’t with me when Chris and I met. I was in the grocery store, and he came up to me,  _ unprompted _ , to introduce himself. You talked about me so much at work that he knew who I was without even seeing you with me.” He gave Dean a victorious grin. “It  _ is  _ different, isn’t it?”

As Dean desperately searched his brain for a comeback, Zoey came over with two mugs, both piled high whipped cream and crushed candy canes. “Here you two go! Enjoy.”

They both thanked her. As she returned to the counter, Dean examined his hot chocolate. “This is a hell of a lot of whipped cream.”

“Yes.” Cas took a long sip from his mug and smiled warmly. “Try it. You’re going to love it.”

“Alright.” So Dean took a sip. It was good hot chocolate, sure, but it tasted pretty much like any other hot chocolate he’d had before. But Cas was looking at him eagerly, waiting for his reaction. “Holy shit. This is… holy shit. You were right.”

“As I usually am.” Cas licked the whipped cream, a chunk of it ending up on his nose. “And the whipped cream is made locally. That’s why it’s so rich.”

Dean gazed at him fondly, at the whipped cream on his nose and the joy he was getting out of an average hot chocolate. “Know what I think?”

“What do you think, Dean?”

“I think that we both love each other so much that we can’t help but tell everybody we meet.” Dean reached out and wiped away the whipped cream, and Cas wrinkled his nose. “That’s pretty great, huh?”

Cas took Dean’s hand and squeezed it. Somehow, there was whipped cream on the lapel of his jacket. “Yeah. Yeah, it is pretty great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	3. wrapping presents

“Which one is that?”

Dean glanced up from the box he was wrapping in shiny red and green paper. Their dining room table was littered with gifts and scraps of paper, and multiple pieces of tape hung off the edge of it; he’d been in here wrapping presents for almost an hour. “It’s the scarf for Eileen.”

Cas leaned against the doorway, smiling fondly at Dean carefully taping the package, at the festive mess of their dining room. “It looks great. All of these look great.”

“Hell yeah they do.” Dean flashed a grin. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Cas hummed in agreement. The radio in the kitchen was on, some old Christmas song Cas didn’t know very well echoing into the dining room, and Dean sang along under his breath. Cas watched him work with no pretense, just enjoying the seriousness with which he wrapped each gift, the soft sound of his voice. 

“Quit staring, Cas,” Dean finally said, amusement clear in his voice. He tossed Cas a sharpie. “If you’re gonna stay, I’m putting you to work. You wanna label these?”

“Of course.”

Cas came and sat beside Dean, and they worked in peaceful quiet for a few minutes. There was something lovely, Cas found, about writing “From Dean & Cas” on each gift. It was another reminder that they were a partnership, but more than that, it was a reminder that they were almost one entity, one being in two bodies. Dean&Cas.

And he couldn’t help but continue to watch Dean as he wrapped each present. The precision with which he cut the paper and the way he taped it so that the two edges lined up perfectly was so careful. Dean always tried to seem like he didn’t care about little things like this, and as Cas had grown to know him better over the years, he had realized that Dean actually cared more than most people ever did. He cared so much about everything—Christmas presents included.

“You really are very good at this,” Cas remarked as Dean handed him one of their gifts for Jack (a complete box set of the Harry Potter series) wrapped perfectly.

At first, he thought Dean hadn’t heard him, and then he said, “I taught myself.” There was something in his voice, and Cas looked at him carefully. “I always had to wrap Sam’s gifts in newspaper, and I knew it looked like crap compared to what he’d want. I used to spend hours trying to wrap it perfectly to make it look nicer.”

Cas tilted his head. Dean’s expression was carefully blank, as it so often was when talking about that part of his life. “I’m guessing John wasn’t any help?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, Dad wasn’t a real Christmas-y guy.”

“He doesn’t strike me as the type.”

“Nah. But Sam was, especially when he was a little kid.” He smiled a little, then, almost wistfully. “He loved all the specials on tv, and the decorations—the whole season. So I always saved up, or ran some scams or something, to buy him a few toys. They weren’t that great, but Sam always loved them. He’d get so excited about it.”

Cas could picture it, a young Dean painstakingly trying to wrap toys in old newspapers, looking over his shoulder to make sure his brother didn’t catch him. It made his heart ache.

“Your father shouldn’t have put you in that position. You shouldn’t have had to worry about it. But doing that... you were a good brother,” He said it earnestly, because even though Dean had grown to trust Cas’s love for him more and more over time, it never hurt to remind him. “A good person.”

Dean smiled a little at that and bumped his knee with Cas’s. “A righteous man even then, huh?”

“Even then.” Cas leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Dean’s lips. When he pulled away, Dean had flushed a little. Cas grinned—it always felt like a triumph to catch Dean off guard like that. “Now. Are you ever going to let me wrap any of these?”

“Uh, absolutely not.” Dean shook his head adamantly and cleared his throat. “You just keep labeling.”

Cas gave him a look. “I’m more than capable of wrapping a few gifts, Dean.”

Dean just shot him a playful grin and pressed a quick kiss to his temple. “Leave it to the professionals, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	4. rosy cheeks

Dean paced back and forth in the hallway of he and Cas’s house, waiting for Sam’s to respond. Miracle watched him with mild interest from where he was curled up by the door, under a blanket Dean had thrown over him when it became clear he wasn’t going to go lay down by the fireplace. The snow outside was falling rapidly, and the windows were beginning to ice up.

“Uh, Dean, I think you might be overreacting,” Sam finally said, voice crackling over the phone. 

“Overreacting?  _ Overreacting?  _ ” Dean said angrily. “Cas could be dead!”

“You just told me he hasn’t even been gone an hour. If the snow is really that bad, it’s probably slowed him down.” Sam’s voice had taken on his soothing, I-don’t-want-Dean-to-freak-out tone, one Dean hadn’t heard in a while; he didn’t like it. “If he still isn’t back in thirty minutes, then you can panic. Hell, I’ll panic with you.”

“I’m panicking  _ now _ .” Dean went to the window again, straining to see any sign of Cas through the thick flakes—his awful red sedan, a flash of black hair or blue eyes, anything. “And I’m about to go out there and find him.”

“Don’t __ do that, Dean. It’s dangerous.”

Miracle whined at Dean’s feet, and he scratched absently behind the dog’s ears. “I do a lot of dangerous things.”

“You’re not a hunter anymore,” Sam said firmly, clearly losing patience with Dean’s hysteria. “The most dangerous thing you do these days is your own electrical work, even though I keep telling you not to, and Cas says—”

Dean scowled. “Sam, I could do without the lecture right now.”

“I’m just saying—”

At that exact moment, the door burst open. Cas walked in like it was a regular day, like he hadn’t just been  _ missing in the middle of a snowstorm _ , and flashed a smile at Dean. He was covered in a dusting of snow, and Miracle ran over and sniffed at his feet as he began to unwind the scarf around his neck.

“He’s here. I have to call you back.” Dean hung up on Sam and grabbed Cas by the shoulders, eyes searching him for anything wrong. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas said. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, and if Dean wasn’t in the midst of a damn panic attack, he’d probably find it cute. “I had almost made it home, but then my car got stuck in the snow at the light down the road. I had to leave it.” 

“You walked here?” Dean said incredulously. He let go of Cas and motioned to the snow outside the window. “In this storm?”

“It was a five minute walk, Dean.” Miracle nudged Cas with his nose, who began petting the top of his head. “I was fine.”

“You could have frozen to death.”

“I was fine,” Cas repeated reassuringly as he stripped his coat. “I promise.”

Dean crossed his arms. He felt anger rising in him, the anger he so often couldn’t stop. “Y’know, I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere. You left your phone here, and the snow started, and I thought you’d wrecked your car. I was going to get a call from some fucking cop telling me you’d died!” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment. Tried to pull himself together. “Jesus, Cas, you scared the hell out of me.”

Cas looked at him sadly. “Dean, I—”

“You’re human now. I know you know what that means, but I…” Dean swallowed. “You can’t die like that, in some random car accident. Okay? You need to live a long time.”

Cas reached out and took Dean’s hand, pulling him close. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead, to each cheek, and finally to his lips. Cas’s face was freezing against Dean’s. “I’m going to live a long time. I promise,” He said softly. “And I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll be more careful.”

Dean looked at Cas for a long moment; the solemness of his expression and what he’d just said contrasted with his rosy cheeks in a way that felt so quintessentially Cas. Dean loved him so much he thought his chest was going to cave in. 

"You’d better be,” He said gruffly. “If I freak out like that anymore,  _ I’ll _ be the one heading to an early grave.”

“Don’t worry.” Cas smiled lightly. “We’re both going to live a long time.”

Dean had to smile back at that. He touched Cas's still-pink face. "Not if we don't get you warmed up. Come on, babe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and a kudos if you liked this!


	5. christmas tree

“What do you think, Dean?” 

They were sitting beside each other on the couch, Dean’s arm wrapped around Cas, Cas’s head on his shoulder, Miracle curled up at their feet—the picture of domestic comfort. The night was cold outside, but their living room was a cocoon of warmth.

“I think we did a pretty damn good job,” Dean said. 

“I do too.” The Christmas tree glowed splendidly in the low light, and Cas almost couldn’t look away. To him, it seemed to represent everything about their lives now, how happy they were, and how far they’d come from all the fights and anger and death that came before. One singular sign that they had made it. “Add decorating Christmas trees to the list of things we kick ass at.”

Dean grinned. Even now, after all this time, he still treated Cas swearing with the same delight he did back when he thought he was corrupting an Angel of the Lord. “Hell yeah.”

The TV had some Christmas special on, a bunch of different singers performing old classics, and they watched it in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t particularly interesting, and as Dean started running his fingers through Cas’s hair, and slowly, his eyes began to slip shut.

“You need a haircut,” Dean said softly, muting the TV with his free hand.

“It’s not that long.” 

“It’s a mess. Give me twenty minutes with some clippers and I’ll take care of it.”

“Absolutely not,” Cas muttered sleepily.

They sat there like that for a long time, Cas lingering in some perfect place between asleep and awake, listening to Miracle snoring softly and the fireplace crackle, Dean’s body warm and steady beside him. 

Then, Dean stopped combing his fingers through Cas’s hair. He sighed. “Oh, dammit.”

Cas didn’t open his eyes. “What is it?” 

“We forgot to put something on top of the tree.” Dean nudged him. “Wake up.”

“Is this urgent? It doesn’t feel urgent.”

“I’m getting up, Cas.”

He lifted his head from Dean’s shoulder, trying to blink the sleepiness from his eyes. He looked to Dean uncertainly. “What’s wrong? There’s something on the tree?”

“No, we’re missing something to put on top of it!” Dean stood up and went to the tree. He looked critically at it, as though it was a problem to be fixed, a broken-down car or a busted AC unit. “Damn, how did I forget?

Satisfied that it really wasn’t anything that warranted immediate attention, Cas reclined to lay down on the couch and closed his eyes again. “What normally goes there?” He said, stifling a yawn.

“Uh, a star. Or a…” There was a silence, and then Dean started laughing. “You know what? You sleep, Cas. I know what we should do.”

If he’d been more awake, Cas might have wondered what Dean was up to, but instead, he just allowed himself to sink back into sleep, comfortable and warm. It didn’t feel like very long before Dean was shaking him awake again. 

“Cas! Cas, wake up.” He opened his eyes, and Dean was looking down at him, grinning excitedly, like he always did when he had something up his sleeve. “Get up. I gotta show you this.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Cas scrubbed his face, trying to wake up, and stood; Miracle remained blissfully asleep underfoot. Dean took him by the hand and pulled him to the Christmas tree. “What’s going on?”

“We forgot to put something on top of the tree, right? People put all kinds of stuff up there, but what we did when I was a kid was put an angel up there.” Dean was excited and half-laughing, and Cas couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him like this. “So I thought we should do the same thing."

Cas looked up. Attached to the top of the tree with what looked like scotch tape was a small piece of paper. On it was a stick figure with big black wings and a childish smile; the eyes were two big blue dots, and he was wearing something that looked like it could almost be a trench coat.

Cas looked incredulously at Dean, who was fully laughing now. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“Who the hell else?” Dean looked up at the childish drawing with admiration. “I think I captured you well. And now you can watch over our Christmas tree.”

If it were anyone else, Cas would have a hard time believing that they found this joke funny. But it was Dean, who had the tendency to think that almost everything he came up with was funny, and his amusement was so apparent that Cas couldn’t help but laugh a little too.

“This is ridiculous, Dean.”

He didn’t stop grinning. “About as ridiculous as me growing old with a former angel?”

He had him there. Cas smiled up at the silly drawing. "Fair enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking I'm going to get sick of writing only fluffy little stories like these but honestly, they are a welcome distraction from the world right now. I hope y'all are liking them!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


	6. mistletoe

Cas was almost to the end of his book when Dean came clattering into the house, grocery bags in both hands. Miracle barked twice and began to circle him excitedly as he moved toward the kitchen, laughing as he tried to avoid the dog’s whipping tail. Cas smiled at them both fondly.

“Dean, do you need help with that?” Cas called out, setting his book down.

“Nah, I’ve got it,” He called back from inside the kitchen. “It’s not much.”

Cas listened as Dean set the groceries down on the counter, as he began putting his purchases away, as he murmured to Miracle about the various things he’d bought. Cas couldn’t help but smile at that. Moments ago, the whole house had been quiet. Dean always managed to fill any space he entered with sounds and movement and laughter. It was one of the many things Cas loved about him.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“I got you something from the store,” Dean said from the kitchen. “C’mere.”

Cas marked his place in his book and walked to the kitchen, wondering what it could be. Dean had a tendency to see things in the store that he thought Cas would like, or that he hadn’t experienced before, and buy them and bring them home; the holiday season had only increased the numbers of things Dean wanted to introduce him to. Last week he had come home all excited about something called Christmas Tree Cakes made by a woman named Little Debbie. (Those  _ were  _ good. Since becoming human, Cas had discovered that he had quite the sweet tooth.)

Dean was standing in the middle of the kitchen. He smiled mischievously at Cas and motioned him over to where he was standing. “Come over here.”

“Why?” Cas asked suspiciously.

“Come on, it’s fine.”

So Cas did, fully prepared for anything, and once they were only a foot apart, Dean looked up at the ceiling fan above them. Cas followed his gaze, and hanging from the fan was a small plant with a red ribbon wrapped around it.

“What is that?” Cas asked. Dean was smirking in a way that made Cas even more suspicious than he already was.

“Mistletoe.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “Now you have to kiss me.”

“If you want to kiss me, you can just ask, Dean,” Cas deadpanned.

“It’s a tradition.”

“A tradition?”

“Yeah, for Christmas. If there’s mistletoe hanging above two people, they have to kiss. Doesn’t matter who,” Dean said. He snaked an arm around Cas’s waist and pulled him close, green eyes already on fire. Cas grinned—so that’s where this was going. “Lucky you find me irresistible.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cas said, leaning forward. Their faces were so close together that he could count every little freckle on Dean’s face, and he was tempted to do it—it’s not like he hadn’t done it before. 

Dean cocked his head at the proximity and slowly, like he was testing the water, rolled his hips against Cas’s. “Nah, you think I’m hot.”

“Something tells me you have ulterior motives here,” Cas said teasingly. They were still so close together. “Like you want something more than to just kiss me?”

“You wound me, Cas,” Dean said dramatically, hand over his heart. “All I want is a kiss.”

“Hm. I’m not sure I believe you.”

“It’s attack after attack with you, huh?” But Dean closed the distance between them even further so that their lips were only a centimeter apart, that they felt each other’s breath, that as he spoke, he spoke the words into Cas’s mouth. “Come on, babe. Christmas tradition.”

Cas couldn’t drag it out anymore, and he smiled. “Well, I suppose if it’s tradition…”

And, well. It turned out Cas liked the mistletoe even more than anything else Dean had shown him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed this!


	7. snowman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, I'm leaving Jack's future vague because I have lots of ideas I like for him. He's not living with Dean and Cas and he's on his own, for sure. But you can decide if that's because he's hunting with Claire, or at college, or anything else you'd like!

“You enjoying the snow?” Dean said as he entered the living room, warming his hands on his mug. Jack was sitting cross-legged on the window seat, watching each flake fall with complete enrapturement.

“Definitely!” Jack said. He looked up at Dean, and the amazement in his eyes reminded him so much of Cas. “It’s so beautiful.”

Dean ruffled his hair. “It’s good to have you here, kid.”

“I was wondering…” Jack had grown up so much in the past few years. He’d been living on his own for a while now and was doing well, but damn if Dean wasn’t tempted to ask him to stay here for longer, just so Dean could keep an eye on him, just to make sure he was safe. Without Cas, Dean was sure he’d turn right into the kind of helicopter parent he’d always despised. “Could we go out and make a snowman?”

Dean almost choked on his coffee. “A snowman?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun!” Jack grinned, and Dean was reminded that though he may have grown up quite a bit, there were parts of him that would always be a child. “I’ve always wanted to and never have.”

Cas came padding down the stairs then, and smiled sleepily at both of them. “Good morning. What are you two talking about?”

“Cas!” Jack’s face lit up. “Do you wanna come outside and build a snowman with me and Dean?”

“Right now?” Cas glanced uncertainly at Dean. Neither of them was a morning person, and though Dean had begun to wake up earlier in the past few years, this was still a little early to be exposed to the freezing cold of a snow storm. 

“And I’m still finishing my coffee,” Dean added.

Jack frowned. “But if we wait too long, it might melt!” 

Both he and Cas could have argued that, but the excitement was plain on Jack’s face, and they were nothing if not suckers for their kids.

“Alright, then. Let’s get bundled up.”

So they all put on their winter gear, Dean checking repeatedly to make sure both Cas and Jack were adequately dressed (now that Cas was human, he struggled to remember that he needed to wear warm clothing to keep himself safe. Jack just was too excited to care.)

They went outside, Dean grumbling to himself about the temperature already. Jack was immediately enthusiastic, acting as though this was the first time he’d ever seen snow in his life. He stuck his tongue out, trying to catch snowflakes, and nearly tripped down the porch steps—fortunately, Cas was paying attention and grabbed him at the last second.

“Where do you wanna build this snowman?” Dean asked, already surveying their yard. It was best to just get this done. He loved Jack, but didn’t want to spend any more time out in the freezing weather than necessary.

“Doesn’t matter. Cas, can you help me start making a ball for the bottom of him?” He asked, gloved hands already deep in the snow.

Cas looked reluctantly at the ground. Dean doubted that he was fully awake yet. “Of course.”

Dean was instructed to find sticks for arms while they made the first snowball, and began digging half-heartedly in the deep snow. Miracle, who loved the snow, followed him dutifully, rolling around and snatching each stick from Dean collected from his hand with enthusiasm.

“Dean?” He looked over, and Jack and Cas were standing by a small snowball, which promptly fell apart in front of them. “Why isn’t this working?” Cas asked with a note of irritation in his voice.

Dean kicked at the snow on the ground, and a cloud of it poofed up. “I think it’s too powdery. It needs more slush if you want it to stick together.”

Cas frowned. “Can we fix it?”

“Uh, not unless you can control the weather.” Miracle snatched the only stick in Dean’s hand and bounded away. He resisted the urge to curse.

“That’s not helpful, Dean,” Cas said.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Not make sarcastic comments. How’s that?”

Dean crossed his arms. Fine, they could do this. “Cas, it’s just a snowman.”

“A snowman that Jack wants to build. He asked us to do this, so we should do it.”

“We can’t fix the snow, Cas.”

They looked at each other, fuming, and turned instinctively to Jack, each expecting his support. But Jack was across the yard with Miracle, tugging on one end of the stick the dog had taken from Dean. He was laughing hysterically as Miracle gnawed at it. As they watched, Miracle gave one big pull, and both boy and dog tumbled into the snow. Jack rolled around with Miracle like he’d never been happier in his life.

Dean glanced at Cas, and they both smiled.

“I love that kid,” Dean said quietly.

“Yeah. Me too.” Cas intertwined their hands. Suddenly the cold wasn’t so bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	8. sweater

“Uh, Cas? What the hell is that?”

Cas muted the movie he was watching (He’d now seen Home Alone at least three times and didn’t seem to be tired of it) and looked over at Dean with confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dean motioned toward the sweater Cas was wearing, unsure how to even begin to address the very ugly elephant in the room. “The… what is it?”

“It’s a sweater, Dean,” Cas said dryly. “It keeps you warm. It’s comfortable. What else is there to explain?”

Dean dropped to sit down on the couch. Guess they were having this conversation now. “The design? The  _ bells _ ?”

Cas glanced down the sweater. It was heinous, and not in a way that Dean could at least find charming. It was made of chunky wool that had been dyed an ugly shade of green, and at the center was an over-large Christmas tree covered in lights and ornaments stitched of various unattractive patterned fabrics; worse, it was dotted with actual, jingling bells. And it wasn’t even well-made—there were loose pieces of thread hanging off of random places, and some of the fabric ornaments were coming loose. The whole thing looked like a sewing project gone horribly, horribly wrong.

But it didn’t seem that Cas felt the same way. He smiled at the monstrosity on his chest and then back up at Dean. “I like it. It’s festive.”

Dean looked at him incredulously. “Where did you even get it?”

“Goodwill. It was only five dollars, which I think is a bargain.”

“A  _ bargain _ ?”

“You can tell that whoever made it put a lot of work into it. I think that’s admirable, and it certainly adds to the value of the sweater.” If it were anyone else saying that, Dean would have laughed. But this was Cas, and Dean knew better than anybody how serious he was being. “And like I said, it’s very comfortable.”

“Comfort isn’t the only thing that matters in clothes, Cas,” Dean said, trying to choose his words very carefully. “Y’know, you have to think about durability and use and style and—”

“Oh? Is that why you wear the same four flannels every day?”

Dean felt his cheeks heat up. “Yeah, actually. That’s why.”

“Mm,” Cas said, turning his attention back to the television. “Good to know. I’ll keep it in mind.”

They sat in silence for a long moment on opposite ends of the couch. Cas continued to watch Home Alone with a seriousness that Dean would have found funny were he not so busy being offended by the sweater. It felt like it was taunting him.

Finally, as the Wet Bandits began their home invasion, Dean decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Cas?”

He muted the television again and turned to look at Dean. “Is this more about my sweater?”

So this is what Dean’s life had come to. “Uh, yeah.”

Cas’s look of exasperation might have wounded weaker men. “Alright, fine. Go ahead.”

“I know you like it, but honestly?” Dean eyed it mistrustfully. He wondered if it might be haunted by the ghost of the evil old woman who clearly had to have made it. “Cas, it’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Hyperbole, man.” He sighed and took both of Cas’s hands in his own. “Listen, that thing… that thing has got to go. I mean, you can’t wear that in public.”

Cas looked affronted. “Why not?”

“Why  _ not _ ? Uh, because people can see you?”

“You’re an ass.” He took his hands out of Dean’s grip and turned the volume back up. He focused his attention on Kevin McCallister setting another perfect booby trap as he continued. “I like this sweater, and I’m going to wear it.”

Dean could have pushed it, but there was a note of finality to Cas’s voice that made it clear it wasn’t worth it. They had plenty of other things to fight about. The sweater… well, Dean was just going to have to deal with it if it really made Cas that happy.

When the movie ended, Cas got up to leave the room, and Dean grabbed his arm as he walked past. He looked down at Dean warily, clearly expecting another jab at the woolen eyesore he was wearing.

“I, uh…” Come on, Dean. Be a big boy. “I’m sorry. If you like the sweater, that’s what matters.”

Cas looked at him, and then, he smiled a little. “Thank you, Dean.” He leaned down and kissed Dean, who couldn’t help but pull him into his lap for more. The bells jingled aggressively as Cas tumbled down.

Cas buried his face in Dean’s shoulder as he laughed at the sound, and Dean tried not to grimace. “Yeah, can you just do one thing for me?”

Cas pulled back. “Lose the bells?”

“Yeah. Lose the bells.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one might be my favorite so far!
> 
> Leave a comment and kudos if you liked it too :)


	9. christmas cookies

“I mean, I don’t know how people don’t think it’s a Christmas movie,” Dean said. He dipped a finger in the dough, scooped out a taste, added a pinch of cinnamon, and continued on. “The whole thing happens on Christmas Eve.”

Cas was perched comfortably on the counter, carefully icing the cookies next to him. “But Die Hard is primarily an action movie.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t also be a Christmas movie.” Dean eyed the dough critically. “I don’t know if this is right. I haven’t made gingersnap cookies before.”

“I’ll taste it.”

“No shit, sweet tooth.” Dean grinned, already scooping some dough onto a spoon for him. “Is it too much cinnamon? Too much ginger?”

Cas let the flavor settle on his tongue. “Wow, Dean. This might be perfect.”

“You sure? Want another taste?”

“Well, yes, but only because I like cookie dough.” Cas smiled and handed the spoon back to him. He had his favorite apron on, the one Claire had gifted to him a few years ago for Christmas; it read, “No Bitchin in My Kitchen!’ “You’re doing a wonderful job with all of these.”

“Hope so.” Dean didn’t seem to believe him but started scooping the dough out on the pan anyway. “You’re doing a good job too, with the icing. Thanks for the help.”

“Of course.” Cas dotted the green-iced cookie he was working on with yellow spots, like lights on a tree. “I’m happy to help. I know you’ve been worried about this.”

“Worried? Why would I be worried?”

“It’s important to you that Charlie has a nice time. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know,” Dean said irritatedly. He kept his eyes on the pan of cookies.

Cas smiled. “Dean, why don’t you just admit that you’re doing all this for her? It’s okay.”

“Uh, I’m not doing that, because that’s not the situation.”

Cas looked around the kitchen incredulously; cookies were piled everywhere, mountains of every kind you fathom; they were about to be out of counter space. Then, he pointedly at Dean, who was still trying to avoid direct eye contact. “Then what on earth are all these cookies for?”

Dean flushed to his ears. “It’s Christmas. Baking is what you do.”

“To this extent?”

“Yes,” He said stubbornly.

Cas hopped off of the counter and came up behind Dean, wrapping his arms around him. “Hello. What’s going on with this?” Cas said softly.

“I just…” He sighed, still rolling the dough into cookie-sized spheres. “I quit. And she’s still out there, saving people, hunting things, and I just want her to… I don’t know. I just want her to know that it’s not a waste, y’know? That I’m not helping people like that anymore, yeah, but I’m still me. That I’m making it work, and we’re happy.”

“She’s your best friend, Dean. She already knows all of that.” Cas kissed the edge of Dean’s jaw beneath his ear. “Charlie is happy that you’re happy. She doesn’t need hundreds of cookies to convince her otherwise.”

Dean sighed and braced his hands on the counter. He turned his head, so Cas’s next kiss caught his cheek. “Think so?”

“Know so.” Cas squeezed his again, reveling in the warmth of Dean’s body, and stepped back. “But she’ll like all the cookies anyway. They’re all delicious.”

Dean half-smiled. “You would know. You’ve eaten about half of them.”

Cas snaked his arm around Dean and grabbed a ball of dough before he could be intercepted. He popped it into his mouth and began chewing happily. “Then I’d better keep up my ratio.”

“Sure, babe.” Dean shook his head exasperatedly. “If you keep eating dough, you’re going to get salmonella.”

“Frankly, the risk is worth it.”

Cas returned to his spot on the counter. He looked at the cookies—maybe he needed to add more blue? He looked over at Dean to ask him and had to smile again at the focus on his expression, at the way his freckled face was overrun with splotches of flour and dough, at the silly apron he loved more than almost anything. Yes, their lives were different. But Dean was right—they were happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's apron is real! I found it after searching "novelty aprons" and frankly I love the idea of Dean Winchester wearing it. If you wanna own it for yourself, it's at this link: https://www.amazon.com/Shock-Pockets-Adjustable-Professional-Grilling/dp/B07D33W16Z
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	10. family

From the moment they got to Eileen and Sam’s house, Dean knew something was up.

The invitation was out of place enough; they didn’t live that far away from one another, and usually, they just all dropped by whenever they wanted. For there to be an official invitation (Sam sent a strangely formal text) raised Dean’s suspicion. And all night, Sam and Eileen kept giving each other these  _ looks _ , like they had some kind of secret, and they both kept laughing at everything, even if it wasn’t really that funny. Dean knew better than anyone else that Cas’s favorite knock-knock joke about honey bees (“Honey bee a dear and let me in!”) wasn’t exactly laughter-inducing.

“Do you think something’s going on with those two?” Dean whispered to Cas when Eileen and Sam had both gone to the kitchen to check on dinner. 

He nodded. “Something. I’m not certain what, but they’re being very strange.”

“Think it’s a gift?”

“We aren’t doing those until Christmas Day.” Cas frowned. “I don’t think that’s it.”

Dean wanted to say more, but then Eileen and Sam reappeared, laughing to each other about something.

_ “Dinner’s ready,”  _ She signed. (Dean had trouble with learning sign language from the beginning. Cas was about a million times better at it, but he’d improved in the last few years. Eileen still made fun of him for his slowness and constant mistakes, but he could hold a basic conversation.)

They sat down to eat dinner, and Dean kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. The conversation, hopping around from Christmas-related topic to Christmas-related topic, felt stilted in a way it never did between the four of them. His mind raced with the possibilities. Were they moving? Were they going to start hunting again? God, he hoped not.

After dinner was over, they all had coffee with peppermint sticks (Cas inserted an entire candy cane into his). They sipped in a strange silence for too long, and then Sam finally said, “Okay, let’s just do this. We have news.”

Both of them were smiling, almost ecstatic with whatever they were about to say, and Dean wracked his brain for more possibilities. He exchanged glances with Cas. “Alright. What’s up?”

Sam wrapped an arm around his wife. “Well, uh, Eileen is—”

“We’re pregnant!” She cut him off excitedly. “I’m pregnant!”

Dean may have actually dropped out of consciousness for a moment. Everyone stood up, hugging and laughing, but he was still sitting at the table, staring blankly ahead. Sam and Eileen were having a baby. Dean was going to be an uncle. Sam was going to be a father.

“Dean?” Sam said, a hint of worry in his voice. “You with us?”

“I…” Look at his little baby brother. His baby brother was going to have his  _ own _ baby soon, and that thought made reality sink in. Dean felt tears spring into his eyes. He stood up abruptly and wrapped his brother in a bear hug. “Congrats, Sammy. I’m proud of you two.”

When he pulled back, Sam smiled, tears also in his eyes. In fact, as Dean looked around at everyone, it seemed like they were all about to cry. “Thanks, Dean.”

_ “I hope this is a good early Christmas gift,”  _ Eileen signed, smiling warmly. _ “We wanted you two to be the first to know.” _

That almost sent Dean into actual sobs, but he held himself together, managing to sign,  _ “Thank you.” _

Dean hugged Eileen, and then Cas, and then Sam again. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop touching them, couldn’t stop being so grateful and so full of love that he thought his heart was going to burst. When he and Cas finally left that night, he physically couldn’t stop himself from hugging Sam and Eileen each about four times each before Cas practically dragged him to the Impala.

“We’re going to be uncles,” Cas said on the way home, a bright smile on his face. “ _ Uncles _ , Dean.”

“I know.” Dean cleared his throat, kept his eyes on the road. If he hadn’t cried yet, he wasn’t going to give in now. “God, I can’t believe it.”

“Eileen was right,” Cas said fondly. “That might be the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Dean glanced over at Cas’s joyful face, and felt that same bursting of love in his chest for the little family they had. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sam and Eileen so much. I think they'll make a few more appearances here!


	11. fireplace

The snow had been coming down in sheets for a few hours when all the lights in the house went out.

Miracle whined at Dean’s feet; he hated the dark. Dean pet the shaking dog, muttering words of comfort, and then walked to the bottom of the steps, moving slowly through the darkness. Miracle followed him closely. “Cas?”

Dean heard footsteps, and then Cas’s silhouette appeared at the top of the stairs. “Did you do that?”

“What?” Dean asked. “No.”

“I thought you might have tried to do at-home electrician work again,” Cas said lightly as he came down the stairs. He peered out the window when he reached the bottom, and over his shoulder, Dean couldn’t see anything but thick snowflakes whirling around in the dark night. “Do you think it’s because of the storm?”

“Must be.” Dean came up behind Cas and wrapped his arms around him; he’d been in a strange mood all day, quiet and brooding. “Where’ve you been all day? Feel like I’ve barely seen you.”

“Right here.” But there was something in his voice. “We should light the fire, shouldn’t we? It’ll get cold.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll light it.” Dean pressed a quick kiss to Cas’s neck. They both had days like this, where their past caught up with them, and the present seemed wrong, seemed impossible; Dean knew how Cas was feeling better than anyone. “Why don’t you bring some blankets down? We can make a bed in front of the fire and sleep there tonight.”

“Okay.” Cas turned, and so quickly that anyone watching might have thought it was accidental, avoided Dean’s attempt at another kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

Dean watched him as he retreated back up the steps, trying not to worry too much. They were both grown-ups. Cas would talk about it if he wanted to.

So Dean went to the fireplace, piled the logs on, and began the process of starting the fire. It didn’t take long before Cas returned with all of their warmest, fluffiest blankets. He made the bed meticulously, taking care to ensure they’d be comfortable tonight. Miracle watched them both as they completed their tasks.

“There we go,” Dean said when the fire finally started to catch. He sat back on the little bed that Cas had made and scratched behind Miracle’s ears. He shifted, trying to find the right position; he knew he was getting too old to sleep on the floor with only a layer of blankets beneath him, but damned if he’d acknowledge that—he could handle some back pain. “Nice and cozy.”

Cas didn’t say anything, his attention focused on the growing fire.

“Cas?”

He looked over Dean, and Dean felt his chest twist at the expression on his face, an unhappiness there that he so rarely saw these days. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing a little. “Cas, what’s going on?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I’m sorry. I’ve been… it’s been a hard day. I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“You know that I love you,” Cas said simply, not like a question, like a statement. A core truth. “I love you more than anything. And I love the life we have. But sometimes, still, it feels… it feels so strange to be human.” He looked back at the fire now roaring in front of them. The warmth was a welcome feeling. “My grace… I used to  _ feel _ fire when it burned, the energy of it. I could heal people who were sick and injured.” He looked back to Dean, and touched his face. “I could feel your soul, Dean. I could hear your prayers.”

“Cas, I…” Dean swallowed. He couldn’t help but feel responsible. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Cas smiled softly, then, and it was the first one all day that felt genuine. “It’s right, who I am now. I miss being an angel, I do, but not anywhere near as much as I love what I have as a human.” 

Dean looked right into his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been of anything.” Cas looked back at him thoughtfully, blue eyes clear and beautiful. “A person can miss the past and not want it back. You know that.”

Jesus, did he. Dean watched the colors of the fire in the fireplace flicker on Cas’s face and pulled him close. The snow outside was freezing, but here in their little home, Miracle beside them, the softness of the blankets around them, he’d never felt so warm.

“I love you,” Dean said quietly between kisses. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Cas whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit moodier than usual, and I think it might be because I've been listening to evermore all day. 
> 
> Hope y'all liked it!


	12. eggnog

Cas was in the middle of a conversation when he heard a commotion from across the room. Liza, their neighbor who was hosting the little Christmas party, laughed. “Looks like someone had a little too much eggnog.”

Cas followed her gaze, and Dean was standing by the Christmas tree, talking very loudly to some of their other neighbors. They were all holding back laughter as he knocked back the rest of the drink in his hand, then stumbled a little into the tree. 

“Of course.” Cas rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly at Dean; he was such a goofy drunk. “I suppose this is our cue to leave. Sorry, Liza.”

She grinned. Cas liked her a lot; the way she wore her hair reminded him of Claire, and she never had an unkind word to say about anybody. “Don’t apologize—an early drunken exit is a sign of a fun party! Good luck getting him home.”

Cas strode over to Dean, and his face lit up as soon as he saw Cas. “Hey, babe! Hey, where’ve you been all night? I’ve been looking for you.” His words slurred slightly.

Cas took the empty cup from Dean’s hands and set it aside. “We’re going home, Dean.”

“Home? Why? We’re having a good time, aren’t we, guys?” He looked around at the people standing with him. “Tell ’em.”

Gently, Cas took Dean by the arms and directed him toward the front door. “I know. But it’s time to go home. Come on.”

Dean didn’t fight him; he was drunk, but not blacked-out, which typically meant he was in a great mood. He laughed and shouted at the people they passed on their way out, and it was so genuine that everyone couldn’t help but laugh with him. Cas kept an iron grip on his shoulder, however—drunk Dean was always a bit of a flight risk.

Cas carefully slipped Dean’s coat over his shoulders, and as he put on his own, kept a close eye on Dean. He was shouting his goodbyes to Liza, who was waving and laughing at him from across the room.

“Great party! So fun, and really fucking great eggnog!” He yelled.

Liza gave him two thumbs up, in near hysterics at the sight of him swaying happily in her foyer. “Have a good night you two!”

“Come on, Dean,” Cas said, pulling him out the door. There was a little snow on the ground, and the night air was brisk; fortunately, they lived just down the street.

Dean leaned heavily on Cas as they made their way down the slick porch steps. “I love you, y’know,” He slurred happily. 

Cas smiled placatingly, trying to avoid any patches of ice on the sidewalk; if Dean hit any of those right now, they were both going to end up on the ground. “I love you, too, Dean.”

“You’re really handsome.” Dean gazed at Cas, a starry look in his eye. “Like  _ really  _ handsome. And hot. I don’t tell you that enough, do I? I don’t tell you how goddamn hot you are.”

Cas felt himself flush. “You tell me that plenty, Dean.”

“Do I, though?” Dean’s head lolled a little, and he laughed, slipping his hand beneath Cas’s coat so that his hand splayed across his back. “I’m gonna start saying it every time I see you! Good morning, Cas, you’re hot. How was work, Cas, I wanna have sex with you right now. Thanks for walking me home ’cause I’m drunk, Cas, let’s do it on the couch when we get there.”

“ _ Dean _ .” Cas glanced around, his face flaming, but there was no one out on the street at this hour; most of their neighbors were still at the party anyway. “You’re shouting.”

“Yeah, duh, Cas.” Dean looked at him like he was the dumbest person on Earth. “It’s not like I’m keeping it a secret.”

Cas wasn’t sure what to say to that, but thankfully, they had arrived at their house. Cas hauled Dean up the steps, and as he fished around in his pocket for their keys, Dean’s hand on his back wandered lower and lower.

“Dean,” Cas said warningly. “That’s not happening right now. You’re very drunk. We’re on our  _ porch _ .”

“Okay, alright, fine.” Dean removed his hand and pressed a sloppy kiss to Cas’s cheek. “I’m just sayin’, we could do it right here against the door if we’re quick.”

“I’m never letting you drink eggnog again,” Cas muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunken Dean Winchester is always a good time


	13. holiday movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen It's A Wonderful Life, it's a movie about a suicidal man whose guardian angel shows him what life would be like if he had never been born. You don't need to have seen it to understand this, but that should offer some clarification if you've got no idea what it's about :)

“I like that movie,” Cas said as the credits rolled. His head was on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean had his arm slung around him. He’d thrown a blanket over them both when  _ It’s A Wonderful Life  _ had started, but their socked feet stuck out from under it, tangling together where they rested on the coffee table. __

“Yeah? Me too,” Dean said, and smiled into Cas’s hair; it smelled like mint and some flower that Dean couldn’t name. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I kind of have a thing for guardian angels.”

“Oh?” He could hear the smile in Cas’s voice. “I had no idea.”

“Mhm.” Dean yawned; it was midnight, and these days, that was a few hours past his bedtime. But it was comfortable on the couch, and he didn’t want to pop their little bubble of sleepy quiet with any movement, so he didn’t get up to go to bed. “I met mine, and that was it for me—completely in love.”

“Not true,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “It took you much longer than that to even come to the realization.”

Dean laughed softly. “Can’t just let me say something sweet?”

“Never,” Cas muttered, shifting closer to Dean (if he could get any closer.) Dean watched him blink his eyes sleepily, and wondered if he might fall asleep; Cas had such a hard time with sleep, and had since he first became human. It took him forever to drift off, and when he did, he woke up frequently—he rarely got more than four or five restless hours of sleep each night.

Dean watched the television screen as the credits came to an end, and the next movie in the marathon,  _ Miracle on 34th Street _ , began to play. A question popped into his head. “Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever wonder what the world would be like if you were never born?”

“Well, I wasn’t really  _ born _ , in the traditional sense,” Cas said thoughtfully. “But I suppose if I never existed… I don’t know. A lot of things would be worse. And a lot of things would be better.”

“More things would be worse than better,” Dean said decisively. It was a light-hearted question that he’d asked, a funny little throw-away, and now he was thinking about a world without Cas, life without Cas—the kind of reality he’d spent so much of his life desperately trying to prevent. It was difficult to imagine. “I’d probably still be in hell.”

“Oh, they’d have found someone else to drag you out.” Cas knocked his feet against Dean’s. “Whoever it was would have done a better job than I did. I doubt they’d have fallen in love and began to question orders.”

“Well, then the apocalypse would have happened,” Dean added.

“Yes, it would have.” Cas was quiet for a moment. “What about you, Dean? What do you think it would be like if you were never born?”

Dean thought about it. “Well, Heaven and Hell would’ve been happier, that’s for damn sure. And Sam… he might have died when Mom did. So that’s no Winchesters at all, meaning the apocalypse could’ve happened about eight times. Or maybe it wouldn’t have been a possibility at all.” He laughed, even though it wasn’t very funny. It was strange to be looking back on their past like this; saying some of it out loud made it feel more like a hazy dream than it already did. “Jesus, I don’t know. It’d be different.”

“I’d still be an angel,” Cas said quietly. “Still questioning, but not feeling. Not knowing what it meant to love someone.” Cas looked up at Dean, and there was that expression again, the one that had scared Dean so much for so long, the one of beatific adoration. “A world without Dean Winchester… that’s not one I’d ever want to live in.”

Dean kissed him, gently, reverently, so grateful that he could do this, that his arms were wrapped around Cas, that they had this life together. “Well, I wouldn’t want to live in a world without you. So it’s a good thing we’re both here, then.”

“A very good thing,” Cas said softly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over halfway through! Time flies, y'all.


	14. candles

What made the candle thing so embarrassing was that Dean had thought it was stupid from the beginning.

Cas had come home from Christmas shopping at the mall with two bags full of holiday-scented candles, each with some kind of ridiculous name like  _ Bright White Snowy Morning _ . He’d dumped them all out on the dining room table to show Dean.

“I walked into the store and it smelled  _ amazing _ ,” Cas had said as he sorted out the candles. “And they had a special sale for Christmas, so all of these were half off!”

“That’s great, Cas,” Dean had said. He hadn’t wanted to burst Cas’s bubble, but was a little taken aback by the sheer amount of candles of all varieties. “But what the hell are we going to do with all these?”

“What do you mean?” Cas had responded, smiling excitedly. “We’re going to light them! It’s going to smell amazing in here.”

Dean couldn’t help but feel a little indignant about that. “It smells fine in here.”

“Well, yes, but does it smell like a,” Cas had picked up a candle and looked at the label, “‘ _ Crushed Candy Cane _ ’?”

Dean chuckled at that, and shook his head. “You’re being a little ridiculous, here, Cas. Scented candles aren’t that great, I promise.”

He glared at Dean. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Dude, they—”

“The candles are going to make the house smell wonderful, and I’m excited about it,” Cas had said with finality. “Now. Will you put these upstairs in our room?” 

Well, Dean loved Cas, and he loved when he got excited about little things like scented holiday candles, so despite his own belief that scented holiday candles were  _ dumb _ , he did as Cas asked. And not long after that, Cas started lighting them. That was when everything shifted.

Scented candles, they were something Dean had never considered owning; he’d always figured they were for chicks, and even if he hadn’t, what would be the point of it? He’d grown up in motels and lived in them for most of his adult life—when he finally did have a permanent home, it was a bunker, old and grungy and meant for hunters. To Dean, scented candles seemed like a useless luxury that never fit into his life.

But now Dean understood what Cas had tried to tell him. Each morning when Cas woke up, before he even poured himself a cup of coffee, he lit one of the candles (it might be _ Roaring Fireplace _ or  _ Salted Butterscotch _ ). And each morning, Dean took a deep breath as the pleasant scents filled their house and smiled to himself. Maybe scented candles hadn’t fit into his old life, but they certainly fit into this one.

Cas, of course, noticed how much Dean liked them—Cas noticed everything about Dean, which meant he could never get away with anything.

“Did you light this candle, Dean?”

“What?” He looked up from his book; Cas was standing by the candle in the window— _ Frasier Fir _ , Dean’s personal favorite—watching Dean with an amused expression. “Oh. Uh, yeah.”

Cas nodded, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re starting to like the candles.”

“It’s… I mean, I don’t really care about them. They’re all the same to me.” Dean internally cringed at how terrible his nonchalant tone sounded. “They’re just candles.”

“Do you have a favorite one?” Cas asked, feigning innocence.

Dean looked back down at his book, feeling his cheeks burn. “Shut it, Cas.”

He came and sat beside Dean, grinning triumphantly. “You know, it’s okay to admit that you like a scented candle. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not admitting anything. I’m not giving you the satisfaction.”

“The satisfaction of what?” Cas’s grin seemed to grow more victorious. “You admitting that I was right for once?”

Dean groaned. “Fine, okay! You were right. The candles are amazing and they make the whole house smell like Christmas.”

“Thank you!” Cas kissed Dean on the temple, laughing. “I’ll leave you to your book. Enjoy the candle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He grumbled. But he took a deep breath, and couldn’t help but smile at the artificially sweet smell of the Christmas tree-scented candle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love some holiday candles!!


	15. ice skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know nothing about ice skating or hockey so bear with me here!

“I don’t know about this, Dean.”

Next to him, Dean grinned and tugged on Cas’s scarf like a child would. “It’ll be fine. Lace your skates up.”

Cas looked at the skating rink. It was almost empty, quiet on an early Sunday morning. He felt the uneasiness in his chest grow as he watched a young woman speed past and pull into a tight spin. “I think I’m likely to hurt myself.”

“Not on my watch.” Dean glanced at Cas’s skates, still not laced up, and bent down to do it himself. “Listen, I know what I’m doing. I was on the hockey team for like half a season in high school. Well, I only played in one game because I missed so many practices, and then Dad moved us, but anyway,” Dean flashed a smile up at Cas. “I’ve got your back, babe. This is going to be fun.”

Cas wasn’t so sure about that. Reluctantly, he let himself be led out onto the rink, hanging on tightly to Dean. “Are you sure you’re going to remember? It’s been a long time since you were in high school.”

“First of all,  _ rude _ . It wasn’t that long ago,” Dean said as they hit the ice. Cas clung desperately to him as they  _ very _ slowly began to move around the rink. Dean kept one hand locked tight around Cas’s waist. “Second all, see? It’s like riding a bike. I remember.”

“Uh-huh,” Cas said, gritting his teeth. He could do this. This was not that difficult. He took a steadying breath and removed the hand gripping the lapel of Dean’s coat, leaving the other hand laced with Dean’s. He tottered unsteadily, but Dean corrected his balance.

“There you go,” Dean said encouragingly. “We can speed up if you want.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, man, you’re like a million years old. A little ice skating won’t hurt you.”

Cas threw him a glance. “My birth certificate says I’m forty-seven.”

“Yeah, well, we forged that.” Dean squeezed Cas’s waist, which would’ve made him laugh had he not been so focused on remaining upright. “You’re doing great, Cas.”

And sure enough, Cas was starting to get his balance. He almost fell a few times on their first loop, but Dean was always there to catch him, and by the fourth go-round, Cas was actually skating by himself. As he grew more and more comfortable, he sped up a little. He liked the way it felt as he glided along the slick ice; in a strange way, it reminded him of flying.

“This is… this is fun,” Cas said, smiling. 

“Told ya.” Dean grinned, skating backward in front of Cas—what a showoff. “Check this out. I still got it.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but laughed when Dean grabbed his hands and pulled him forward. Looking at Dean like this, joyful and joking and immensely beautiful, Cas couldn’t help but think of him as a teenager, missing hockey practice to look out for his little brother, moving away before he could play in more than one game. He knew better than most what Dean’s childhood had looked like, but it always made his chest twist to think about it.

“Do you want to play hockey?” Cas said later as they sat taking off their ice skates, pink-cheeked and out of breath.

“What?” Dean looked over at him with confusion. “Hockey?”

“You said you liked it, and you obviously like ice skating, but you never got to play a season. I thought you might want to join a league,” Cas said earnestly. “They have one here, you know.”

Dean laughed. “Cas, I don’t even remember the  _ rules _ to hockey. That was just one of those teenage things, y’know, a way to distract yourself from how much life sucks and to piss off your dad,” He said as he laced up his boots. Then he laughed again. “And even if I wanted to, I don’t think my back could take a single game.”

“Are you sure?” Cas said worriedly. “It seemed like it may have been important to you.”

“Maybe when I was fifteen.” Dean’s smile turned sweeter, more romantic, and he slipped his hand into Cas’s. “I’m sure, Cas. Hockey is a thing of my past. But thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always,” Cas said simply. He knew it embarrassed Dean when he said things like that out of nowhere, but could never help himself; he smiled a little as Dean’s ears turned red. “And thank you for helping me learn to skate. This was fun.”

“It was.” Dean squeezed his hand. “Now, you wanna go get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“It’s 10:30 in the morning, Dean.”

“So?” Dean retorted. He put on his most winning smile. “Let’s hit the diner. I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.”

Cas allowed himself to be pulled out the door into the cold morning, smiling all the way.


	16. santa

Cas stood in the doorway of their bedroom and tried not to smile too much. “Sandra just dropped this off.” 

“What?” Dean glanced up from his boots he was polishing. When he saw the red sleeves poking out of the bag in Cas’s hands, he groaned. “Oh, dammit. I forgot about that.”

Sandra was their neighbor, a kind older woman who taught first grade. She absolutely adored Dean and Cas, and had since they moved in next door to her, so when she needed someone to dress up as Santa and visit her students, she asked Dean. And after much convincing, Dean had said yes to it.

“She asked you to try it on and make sure it fit,” Cas said. He found this entire thing enormously hilarious but didn’t want to upset Dean by showing it; he was not particularly excited about dressing up.

“Seriously?” Dean stood up and took the bag from him, peeking inside at the Santa gear suspiciously.

“Santa can’t wear an ill-fitting outfit.”

Apparently, Cas wasn’t doing a good job hiding his amusement because Dean shot him a glare as he said, “Fine. I’ll try it on.”

Cas sat down on the edge of the bed where Dean had been polishing his boots and watched openly as Dean changed clothes. It’s not like he was lusting after a man putting on a Santa suit, but it was always nice to be able to watch Dean like this. He’d spent so many years feeling embarrassed of his own gaze, of his own adoration, and now he didn’t have to be. He could watch Dean dress up in a costume and hold back laughter without any shame. 

Dean looked at himself in the mirror once the outfit was on. It was baggy in the stomach, but Sandra had said a pillow should be stuffed under there. “Jesus. I look ridiculous.”

“You look great.” Cas kept his face perfectly neutral. He wondered if Dean would notice if he snuck a picture.

Dean turned to him and cocked his head. “Really, Cas? I look great dressed like a fictional creep who sneaks into people’s houses?”

“His name is Santa Claus.” Cas stood up and straightened the lapel of the Santa suit. On second thought, he might not need pictures; the image was memorable enough on its own. “And yes, you really do look great. But you’re still not wearing the—”

“No.” Dean cut him off and shook his head adamantly. “I’ll put this dumbass outfit on, but there is no way in hell I’m wearing a fake beard.”

“Then how are they going to know you’re Santa?”

“How are they gonna  _ know _ ?” Dean said incredulously. “I don’t know, Cas, I think the furry red suit might clue them in!”

“They’re children, Dean. They’re expecting to meet the real Santa Claus today, and the real Santa Claus does not have a five o’clock shadow and facial scars,” Cas said patiently. “He has a white beard.”

Dean pulled his grumpiest face. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you’re a sucker for children,” Cas said.

“No, I’m not.”

Cas gave him a look. “Come on, Dean, we both know that’s not true. Sandra asked you to dress up as Santa for her class specifically because she knows how good you are with young children. They love you.” 

And it was true. Their neighborhood was full of families with kids, and in the summertime, they’d flock to Dean and Cas’s house, playing in the front yard and always begging Dean to goof around with them. Cas had spent many summer afternoons listening to Dean tell stories to a group of enraptured kids on their front porch. 

Dean looked at Cas for a moment, the expression on his face contrasting hilarious with the Santa hat on his head, and then sighed. “Fine. I guess I’ll wear it if it’s for the kids.”

He picked up the fluffy white beard and put it on, adjusting it in the mirror. Cas smiled brightly behind him. “That looks perfect, doesn’t it?”

“Arguable,” Dean grumbled as he examined his reflection. 

“You’re going to make a lot of kids very happy. Meeting Santa Claus is a big deal.”

Dean did smile at that; Cas knew that no matter how much he complained right now, as soon as he was dressed up and in that classroom, he’d do anything to make those children happy. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

They both looked at Dean’s reflection for a moment, and then Cas just couldn’t stop himself anymore.

“Could I get a 'ho ho ho’?” He said, already laughing.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one!


	17. holiday music

The Impala roared through the dustings of snow beginning to gather on the road. Dean loved driving her in any weather, but he always liked pushing her a little; it wasn’t a blizzard or anything outside, but he was proud to say she was handling the snow like a champ. It always felt good to know she could still take a challenge.

Cas was beside him, shifting between radio stations. They listened to Dean’s old cassette tapes most of the time, and Cas usually went along with it. However, he often preferred whatever pop music was on the radio, which would have been obnoxious if it wasn’t so endearing to watch him mouth along with the words. And besides, Dean didn’t hate all of it; Taylor Swift had grown on him in the past few years.

Cas switched to a Christmas station, and “Silent Night” was playing. He stopped for a moment, listening carefully.

Dean glanced over. “You know this song?”

“Not really,” Cas said; his knowledge of music was patchy at best, and Christmas music was an area Dean had neglected to teach him much about. “But it’s a beautiful piece of music.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. I guess it’s just not my thing.”

“Do you like Christmas music?” Cas asked with interest. “You don’t listen to it often.”

“I don’t mind some of it. The classics, y’know, Bing Crosby and Sinatra… it’s not rock, but they’re alright,” Dean said as he pulled into their driveway. “Oh, and Blue Christmas is good. I like that one.”

“Who sings it?”

“The King,” Dean said, and when Cas didn’t show any recognition, he added. “Elvis.”

“Ah, okay.” They both got out of the car, Cas still sipping from his hot chocolate. “Thank you, by the way. For coming with me to the cafe.”

Dean slung his arm around Cas as they walked up the porch steps. “You kidding? And miss another opportunity to watch you get whipped cream all over your face?”

Cas rolled his eyes as if he hadn’t had to wipe his face at least three times when he first started drinking the hot chocolate.

When he opened the front door, and they walked inside, Miracle yipped excitedly around their legs. The house smelled wonderful, like their Christmas tree and all of Cas’s scented candles. Dean smiled to himself as he shrugged off his jacket, as he dropped Baby’s keys into the bowl by the door, as he flipped on the lights; he didn’t think he’d ever stop loving the feeling of coming home.

He bent low to pet Miracle, letting the dog lick the side of his face against his better judgment. Cas sat down on the couch, looking intently at something on his phone. Dean watched him with interest. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for this.” Cas tapped something on his phone, and “Blue Christmas” started playing. He listened for a moment, then said, “Oh, I think I’ve heard this one before.”

Dean chuckled. “You don’t have to listen to it, Cas. It’s not important.”

Cas looked at him. Even now, after all this time, the sincerity in his eyes was so arresting. “You said you liked it.”

Dean smiled. It would never stop amazing him, how willing Cas was to do anything for him. He’d open every door and fight every monster and listen to a song that Dean had only mentioned in passing. He’d do anything just to make Dean happy; no one else had ever loved him quite like that.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

He stood up and held out his hand. “Wanna dance?”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Is this really dancing music?”

“Who cares?” He pulled Cas up off of the couch and grinned. 

Cas grinned back. Dean pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him, wanting to get as near to him as possible. They weren’t dancing, really—it was more like an embrace set to music. The phone’s sound quality wasn’t particularly good, anyway; Elvis’s voice sounded tinny and a little too quiet in their living room. But really, Dean didn’t care. The song could’ve been anything, could’ve just been silence, because all he was thinking about right now was how lucky he felt to have Cas in his arms.

“I love you. So much,” Dean said quietly. “You know that, right?”

“I know.” Cas’s voice was low, gentle. “I love you, too, Dean.”

They stood like that, half-swaying and hanging on tight to one another, long after the song stopped playing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue Christmas is my fav Christmas song, so I had to add that one in here :)


	18. snowball fight

The bus station parking lot was covered in snow. It had come down hard last night, but the morning was beautiful and sunny. Cas and Dean stood against the hood of the Impala, watching the road so they could see the buses pull in.

“Should we have gone to pick her up?” Cas said, a hint of anxiety to his voice.

Dean shared some of that worry. They both knew Claire could take care of herself, could kick the ass of anybody who needed ass-kicking, could find her way in the world, but it didn’t stop them from worrying. Dean wondered sometimes if this was how Bobby felt about him and Sam; he figured it must be, and felt pretty guilty thinking about all the shit they put that man through.

“She wanted to take the bus from that hunt in Illinois,” Dean said, trying to reassure himself as much as Cas. “She knows what she’s doing.”

Cas sighed, and checked his phone. “It’s almost eleven. It should be here soon.”

Dean bumped his shoulder. “It will be.”

“Yeah, I know.” But the tension in his voice was still there.

Dean glanced around at the parking lot, at the inches of snow all around them, and an idea popped into his head. It was childish, for sure, one that could result in Cas giving him the silent treatment for the rest of the day, but he couldn’t help himself; there was also a chance it would make Cas laugh, and sometimes, when you had that kind of opportunity, you just couldn’t turn it down.

Dean muttered vaguely about needing to grab something from the car and went around to the passenger side. Cas paid no attention as Dean ducked down low, gathering snow in his hand. It was already turning to slush, still freezing cold in his hands, but he began to pack it into a perfect snowball. 

He popped back up and strolled around to the other side of the car, snowball in hand behind his back. Cas glanced over and immediately sensed something wrong. He stepped back instinctively.

“What’s behind your back?” Cas said with suspicion as Dean came closer to him.

“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, Cas.” Dean smirked. “But I have no choice.”

“Wha—”

Before Cas could even finish the thought, Dean nailed him right in the center of his chest—a perfect shot. Dean burst into hysterical laughter at the look of absolute shock on Cas’s face, doubling over and wheezing for breath.

“Did you just throw a snowball at me?” Cas said incredulously, brushing the snow off of his chest.

“I did.” Dean barely managed to get it out between laughs. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Couldn’t help yourself?” Cas cocked his head, and the look in his eyes promised retaliation. “I think you’re going to regret that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Cas didn’t respond, but bent down and packed snow into a sphere.  _ Shit _ , he was serious. Dean dove behind Baby just in time to avoid the snowball.

“Hey, that was gonna hit me in the head!” Dean yelled, making snowballs as quickly as he could.

“That was the point,” Cas deadpanned from the other side of the car.

Dean threw another snowball over Baby but didn’t hear it make impact. “I thought you were supposed to love me.”

“All’s fair in love and war, Dean Winchester,” Cas said in a perfect impression of himself when they first met, an impenetrable angel with endless power; Dean had to smile at the fact that that angel had ended up here, in a half-assed snowball fight in a bus parking lot.

“Shoulda never said that.” 

Dean counted down quickly in his head, and swerved around the car so that he was face-to-face with Cas. They both had multiple snowballs waiting in their arms, and they began to pelt each other. Neither of them could stop laughing as snowballs flew through the air.

“What the hell are you guys doing?”

They both froze. Claire was standing there, duffel bag slung over her shoulder and a grin on her face. Apparently, they had missed her bus arriving. “A snowball fight? Are you twelve?”

“Claire!” Cas dropped the rest of his snowballs in his arms.

Dean, who was already out of snowballs, went to her and wrapped her up in a bear hug. She squealed. “Dude, you’re soaking wet!”

“I know,” He said, not caring. “Man, it’s good to see you, kid.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, you too.”

They pulled apart. Dean took a good look at her face and was pleased to see no jarring new scars or bruises. She looked like she could be a normal girl—she looked happy.

Cas half-pushed Dean out of the way to get to Claire, hugging her even more tightly than Dean had, if that was possible. “I’ve missed you,” He said emotionally.

Claire laughed softly and buried her face in his shoulder. “Me too.”

Dean looked at them both there. Fuck it. It was embarrassing, but who cared? He’d just been in a snowball fight. He threw his arms around them both in a group hug. 

Cas laughed, and Claire groaned. “Oh my God, Dean, this is ridiculous.”

“Suck it up, kid. We love you.”

“We do,” Cas added.

She let them hug her for a few more moments, then pushed them off. “Alright, alright, I love you guys too,” She said, flushing a little. “Let’s get out of here. It’s freezing, and if we’re going to have a  _ real  _ snowball fight later, I need to get into some warm clothes.”

“Is that a challenge?” Dean asked.

Claire grinned. “Oh, it’s a promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claire finally makes an appearance! I love her so much <3


	19. catching a cold

“Dean?”

He covered his eyes with his arm, the brightness of the morning light assaulting him. It was Sunday, and by his measurement, it was far too early to be awake and talking. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I—” Cas started coughing, then, a hacking and ugly sound.

Dean removed his arm and sat up immediately, looking down at Cas with concern—that had certainly woken him up. Cas’s face was flushed, and Dean put his hand to his forehead. “Jesus, Cas. You’re burning up.”

Cas looked up at him with an almost childlike expression. “I think I may be sick, Dean.”

He slipped his hand down to cup Cas’s cheek and smiled warmly down at him. “Think so, babe.”

Dean was a natural at taking care of sick people. From a young age, he’d been the one to look after Sam whenever he wasn’t feeling well, and he’d do the same for his father (on the rare occasion the man admitted he actually was ill.) As Dean had grown up, he’d kept up that responsibility with everyone he loved. He was always the one ready with a home remedy and a bowl of soup, with a comforting word and a gentle touch.

Cas, by contrast, was a terrible patient. Humanity was still relatively new to him, and because of that, he hadn’t yet grown accustomed to the experiences of illness; Dean doubted he’d ever be fully used to it. Any symptom Cas experienced, from a stuffy nose to sore throat, seemed a thousand times more intense. That usually led to a lot of arguments and complaints about being cared for. 

Dean, however, took it all in stride; grumpy Cas was nothing he couldn’t handle. The key was to keep on top of it. 

So he pressed a quick kiss to Cas’s warm forehead. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He went to the medicine cabinet in their bathroom, got two ibuprofen for him, and then filled up a glass with cold water. When he walked back into their bedroom, Cas was sitting up, face in his hands.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t feel well,” Cas said, removing his hands from his face. He didn’t look well either, somehow both too pale and too flushed, eyes glassy. “I shouldn’t have been outside for that long yesterday.”

Dean didn’t  _ want  _ to say anything about that, but he was not a perfect person. “I told you. I know you like taking walks, but in weather like this, you’re always going to end up getting sick.”

“I realize that.” Cas sighed as Dean handed him the glass of water and the pills. “You were right.”

Dean smiled and squeezed his thigh through the blanket. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I won’t let it get to my head.”

They spent the day in bed together, watching crappy television and talking quietly. Cas didn’t complain or argue much and spent most of the day dozing, which made Dean immensely worried. But by the evening, Cas was sitting up and feeling a little better, his fever having broken that afternoon. Dean celebrated by making a massive pot of chicken noodle soup and insisting Cas eat as much as possible.

He sat on their bed with Cas’s socked feet in his lap, massaging them absently; he was too focused on watching him sip each spoonful of soup. Miracle was curled up on the rug beneath them, snoring softly.

“You’re staring, Dean,” Cas said, lips quirking into a small smile.

“I’m just making sure you eat,” Dean said adamantly. “You need the calories.”

“I’m going to finish the bowl, I promise.” Cas put on a show of swallowing a huge spoonful of soup. “See? I’m being a good patient.”

“For once.” But Dean smiled. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too.” Cas did finish the bowl a few minutes later, and when he set it aside, he looked at Dean with puppy eyes. “I know I’m sick, but will you—”

Dean rolled his eyes and crawled over to lay beside Cas, gathering him in his arms. They clung tightly to one another, and Dean smiled into Cas’s collarbone. “I don’t care if I get sick, babe.”

Cas’s breathing still sounded a little congested, but he laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean said. “I like taking care of you.”

Cas kissed the top of his forehead. His lips were warm. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Always, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is a natural caretaker and I love him for that.


	20. mittens

“Dean?”

He looked up, and Cas was standing in front of him, holding a bundle of woven green fabric in his hands. His eyes were lit up in excitement.

“What’s up?” Dean asked, pausing the old western movie he’d been watching. He glanced at whatever was in Cas’s hands and couldn’t tell what it was. “What’s that?”

“This is  _ not _ your Christmas gift,” Cas said. He was smiling brightly, like he couldn’t hold it back, like the excitement of whatever he was about to give Dean was almost too much. Dean had to smile back; he loved seeing Cas this happy, even if he didn’t know what the hell it was about. “Alright? This is just something for the cold weather.”

He handed Dean the bundle, which turned out to be two separate things. They were oddly shaped (circular-ish?), and extremely lumpy. He thought maybe they were intended to be a matching set, but they looked very different from one another, each lopsided in a unique way. A string of soft green yarn hung off of one of them.

“Oh, wow,” Dean said, not sure what to say. He could not, for the life of him, tell what he was holding. “These are… wow.”

“I know you normally wear gloves, but I found mittens easier to make,” Cas said, sitting down beside Dean. “I’m still learning. I’m sure you can tell.”

Dean looked down at the awful mittens. “You made these? For me?”

“Of course,” Cas said like he always did, like Dean was ridiculous for ever expecting Cas to answer him with anything but certainty. “When I decided to try knitting, I wanted to make you something first.”

Dean looked at him, then back at the mittens in his hands, and felt his heart swell with love. He could picture it, Cas waiting until Dean was out of the house to pull out his knitting needles, weaving the green yarn together with that expression of pure focus, making mistakes but trying his best, all for Dean. 

“I know they’re not perfect,” Cas said, an edge of worry to his voice. “You don’t have to wear them, obviously, but—”

Dean took Cas’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. He made a surprised noise, but kissed Dean back, hand tight on his shoulder.

“I love them,” Dean said when he pulled back. He picked up the mittens and slipped them on his hands. They fit oddly and didn’t look quite right on him, but he didn’t care. “I love them, Cas, thank you.”

Cas’s cheeks were pink. “You’re welcome.”

And for the next few days, anytime Dean left the house, he slipped on his new green mittens. He wore them out in the snow with Miracle, on the way to work—anytime he needed to be outside in the cold. They certainly drew looks, because they looked a little bit like Dean had just haphazardly wrapped yarn around his hands. He didn’t care, though. Each time he put them on, he caught Cas’s pleased expression, and any inconvenience caused by the misshapen mittens was worth it.

Cas noticed, however, other people’s judgment. After seeing one particular odd look from a woman they passed on the sidewalk, he frowned. “Dean, we should talk.”

“About what?” Dean said, watching Miracle as he rushed ahead; he had to keep a good grip on the leash, or the dog would run off into the snow.

“Your mittens.” Cas’s voice was very serious. “I know they don’t look good. I appreciate that you’ve been wearing them anyway, but I want you to know that you don’t have to. I understand.”

“What?” Dean looked at him incredulously. “I love these mittens!”

Cas glanced at his hands and smiled a little. “Dean, it’s alright. You can admit they’re unattractive.”

He stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk as Miracle yanked on the leash to keep moving forward. “ _ You  _ made these for me. They keep me warm and they make me think of you when I wear them. So I don’t care what they look like.”

“Are you sure?” Cas said with concern. “I won’t mind.”

Dean started walking again and grinned back at Cas. “You can pry these mittens off of my cold dead hands. Get the picture?”

He laughed. “Okay. Okay, I get the picture.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it, but we only have five chapters left! Time flies


	21. holiday party

Dean loved a good party. Spending time with fun people, getting a little tipsy, playing games, making jokes—those were the kinds of things he lived for. And as stupid as it sounded, he really did love his job. He’d thought, once, that he’d never be able to really fit in a normal workplace, not after years and years of hunting. But he’d gotten settled here, he’d made friends and found work that he enjoyed; fixing cars was rewarding without the constant threat of death he was used to.

So he’d gotten to be pretty fond of their yearly Christmas party. It was always small, but everybody brought their families, and they all packed into the front of the shop. It felt like a family get-together, almost. 

Maggie, the office manager, usually put the whole thing together. But she was about to be out on maternity leave, and it seemed like they just weren’t going to have a party at all if she wasn’t going to plan it. And to Dean, well, that just wasn’t going to fly.

“I’ll do it,” Dean had said to her, just a few days before she was due.

“Are you sure?” Maggie had raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

“No, I don’t mind. We gotta have a Christmas party, right?”

Maggie had laughed. “Yeah, sure. But I’m telling you, it’s not gonna be as easy as you think.”

Dean scoffed. “You kidding me? How hard can it be?”

Turns out, it was very hard. He’d imagined a supermarket trip for food and a brief group meeting to go over details—it was just a bunch of mechanics and some office staff, so he didn’t think any of them would have particularly high expectations.

Well, they did. They wanted specific foods, and specific music, and different times and dates. Also, there was all kinds of workplace tension that he hadn’t realized existed; two different coworkers were badmouthing each other to him and insisting the other be uninvited from the party. It seemed like he could not do anything right.

The night before the party, Dean was in a terrible mood. He’d managed to pull everything together as best as he could, but not everyone was happy; he’d just gotten an angry call from Chris complaining about the fact that there wasn’t going to be a hot chocolate station.

“What the hell even is that?” Dean had asked incredulously.

Chris had just sniffed on the other end of the phone. “It doesn’t matter. Forget it.”

“Seriously, man?” But Chris had already hung up the phone.

Cas appeared in the doorway, then, looking at him with amused sympathy. “Are you alright, Dean?”

“What do you think?” He snapped.

“I think you’re stressing yourself out more than you need to,” Cas said, not rising to Dean’s frustration. “It’s just a party.”

“That’s what I thought!” Dean groaned. “Jesus, it’s like they’re fucking with me. I mean, we’re a bunch of mechanics. How was I supposed to know they’d all be so demanding about party favors?”

Cas came up behind him and dropped his hands onto Dean’s shoulders. “I’m sorry you’re in this position.” He began to slowly massage the tension out of Dean. “What can I do to help?”

Dean sighed, leaning into his touch. “Nothing. It’s just stupid work shit.”

Cas chuckled. “Look on the bright side.”

“What bright side?”

“Of all the times you’ve been stressed out in your life, of all the irritation and frustration you’ve experienced…” Cas slipped his arms down Dean’s chest and rested his head on his shoulder. “This is certainly less high stakes than most of it.”

Dean laughed a little at that—Cas was always good at keeping perspective. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right about that.”

“Unless this party could start the apocalypse?” Cas kissed Dean’s neck, and he could feel his smile. Dean was beginning to lose sight of what precisely this conversation had been about. “Because if that’s the case, I might suggest a little more concern.”

“Nah, no apocalypse here.” Dean turned and caught Cas’s lips with his own. “For once.”

“That’s something to celebrate,” Cas said, voice low against Dean’s mouth. “Should we take this upstairs?”

Somewhere in the back of Dean’s buzzing brain, he remembered what he was so stressed about. He pulled away, glancing at the list of things he still had to do on the table. “I don’t know, Cas, I—”

“Forget the party,” Cas said breathlessly, pupils blown wide. “It’s Christmas. Give them enough eggnog and they’ll enjoy whatever happens.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and grinned; it was always fun to screw with Cas when he got riled up like this. “You asking me to shirk my duty as a party planner?”

“Never,” Cas said solemnly. “But I am going up to our bedroom. If you’d like to join me, well…”

Before Dean could even respond, Cas had left the room. Dean’s phone started buzzing, then, with another call from a coworker. He looked at it for a long moment. Fuck it—it was just a Christmas party, and he now had bigger things to worry about it. So he turned his phone off and chased after Cas. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a fun one :)


	22. big meal

Cas woke to yelling. 

He sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding. The clock said it was 9:22, bright winter sunlight was streaming in through the window, and Dean’s side of the bed was conspicuously empty. Worst-case scenarios and nightmare situations raced through his mind.

But then the yelling was replaced by laughter, and Cas could hear Dean’s joyful voice booming all the way from the kitchen. He remembered, then, where he was and what was happening: Claire and Jack were both here to celebrate Christmas, Dean was cooking a ridiculous amount of food for them to eat tonight, and his family was all under one roof. They were all here together. Gradually, he felt his heart rate begin to slow down.

Cas padded down the steps, the happy sounds of a busy morning growing louder and louder as he approached the kitchen. He could smell a lot of different things cooking, but frankly couldn’t pick out any individual foods from the mixed-up scents.

“Morning, sunshine!” Dean said happily as Cas entered the kitchen. He was stirring some kind of sauce in a big bowl and wearing his favorite apron with a towel thrown over his shoulder; he looked so completely in his element. “Coffee’s in the pot, but hurry up—once you’re finished, it’s all hands on deck. Christmas dinner won’t make itself.”

Cas blinked, and Claire, who was sitting at the kitchen table, still nursing her own cup of coffee, sighed. Her hair was a rat’s nest on her head. “Yeah. He’s been like this all morning.”

“I’m making pies, Cas!” Jack piped up. He was wearing one of their spare aprons, the one patterned with honeybees, and smiling happily. “Dean’s teaching me how.”

“That’s great,” Cas said as he made his way to the coffee pot. The kitchen was a disaster, with dishes already piled high in the sink and half-prepared food everywhere; Dean was an incredible cook, but he could make a mess in a kitchen better than anybody. “Claire, are you helping out today?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She smirked and took a sip of her coffee, throwing her arm over the back of the chair. “I think Dean might cry tears of joy if we all cook together, though.”

“Hey, now.” Dean threw her a look over his shoulder. “There’s no shame in wanting to spend time together as a family.”

“Even if you start sobbing?” Jack said. His toothy grin grew wider, like it always did when he was trying to be funny. He glanced over at Claire for approval at his joke, and she lifted her mug to him and winked.

“Gonna come to my defense, here, Cas?” Dean said.

He warmed his hands on the hot cup of coffee and grinned. “I can try, but I don’t think we stand a chance against these two.”

Dean laughed—it was the most perfect, merry sound. “Yeah. Probably not.”

It might have been one of the best days of Cas’s life. Dean gave them all jobs to do, everything from chopping vegetables to mixing up batter, and they listened to Christmas music from the old radio in the window as they prepared the big meal together. There were no worries, no potential disasters or heavenly expectations hanging over them. It was just Cas and Dean and the kids making a meal together.

And the meal itself was fantastic. Dean had way overdone it—there was enough food for twenty people, let alone four—but they certainly did their best to finish everything. Cas was a little sad that Claire would be leaving the next morning to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Jody and Kaia and the rest of her family, but he tried not to dwell on it. Any time with all four of them together was precious, and he treated it that way. Their house was meant to be full like this, he thought, full of food and laughter and people who loved each other. 

After dinner, Jack and Claire sat on the floor by the fireplace playing poker for pennies, Miracle’s head in Jack’s lap. Dean and Cas were on the couch, half-watching some low-budget Christmas movie on television and half-watching them play.

“Jack, you are too easy to read,” Claire said with a gentle smile, the one she always kept reserved for him. “I can always tell when you’re bluffing.”

Jack just shrugged good-naturedly. “At least you keep winning.”

Dean glanced over at Cas when he said that, a lovely expression of complete affection on his face. “They’re good kids, huh?” He said softly.

Cas looked at the man who had made all this love in his heart possible. He smiled and squeezed his hand. “They’re great kids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Claire and Jack sibling dynamic, so this was super fun to write!


	23. cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up, this chapter builds on some story beats from the previous one. You don't need to have read it, but it offers more context if you'd like!

Dean loved to nap.

He’d spent most of his life in a state of perpetual exhaustion, always driving through the night or sleeping in shitty motel rooms. Even in the bunker, most nights he was so wracked by nightmares that he barely slept four solid hours. Being tired was something he just took for granted, another part of his lifestyle. But now he had a normal nine-to-five, a house with the man he loved—he even had a dog, for God’s sake. He was still haunted by plenty of nightmares, but he was getting more sleep than he ever had despite that; for the first time ever, sleep was something restful, something he was actually able to enjoy.

Claire had left very early that morning to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Jody and Kaia and the rest of her family. (Dean had teared up a little when they dropped her at the bus station, and everyone was nice enough not to mention it.) Then Jack had gone to spend the day with Sam and Eileen, and Cas had gone for a walk, so Dean was alone in the house. The day was cold, and his bed seemed so inviting. He figured a little nap wouldn’t harm anybody.

Miracle hopped up on the bed, which Cas usually didn’t allow. Dean pulled a throw blanket over both of them, and he was asleep within minutes.

“Dean.” Someone’s hand was on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. “ _ Dean _ .”

He opened his eyes to see Cas looking down at him, cheeks pink from the cold outside, an expression of amusement on his face. “You need to get up.”

Dean threw an arm over his eyes. “What? Why?”

“We’re going to Sam and Eileen’s for dinner with them and Jack. I told them we’d be there in the next hour or so.” Cas glanced down at his watch; he always wore a watch now that he was human, something Dean found very endearing. “We’ve got to leave get ready to leave soon.”

“We can be late.” Dean’s hand snaked out from under the blanket and latched on Cas’s arm, pulling him toward the bed. “Come on, lay down with me.”

“Dean, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He smiled sleepily up at Cas. “C’mere.”

Cas sighed, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He let Dean pull him down on their bed. “Just for a few minutes, okay?” He said as he slipped his arms around Dean, slotting their bodies together.

“Whatever you say, man.” They’d had this exact conversation probably hundreds of times, and they both knew how it always ended up—with them curled up together, half-asleep and comfortable, for way longer than intended. Once Cas laid down with Dean, it took a lot to get him up again.

“You’re warm,” Cas said softly. He tucked his face into the curve of Dean’s neck and shoulder, still ice cold from the walk he’d just come inside from.

“And you’re freezing.” But Dean wiggled closer to Cas so that every inch of their bodies were pressed together. “How was your walk?”

“Nice. Quiet,” Cas said. “But I noticed the strand of lights on the porch finally fell down all the way.”

Dean chuckled, unable to picture how terrible the front of their house must look now. “I can’t believe they made it this long.”

“Neither can I.”

They laid there in the quiet for a long moment. Their breathing was matched, and Dean could feel Cas’s chest rise and fall against his back, could feel the warm puff of Cas’s breath on his neck. Absently, as he began to slowly drift back toward sleep, Dean decided he’d prefer to be this close to him all the time.

“Dean?” Cas said quietly.

“Mhm?”

“Miracle isn’t supposed to be on the bed.”

Beside him, Dean felt the dog lift his head at the sound of his name and scooch closer to Dean. “Rules were made to be broken, Cas.”

“So you say.” But Cas took one of the hands wrapped around Dean and reached out to pet Miracle. Dean had once thought he loved that dog more than anybody else ever could, but Cas had given him a run for his money—that love they both had meant any rules for the dog never lasted. “It’s about time to get ready.”

“You go first.”

Cas didn’t move. “ _ You _ go first.”

Dean smiled at the gravelly sound of Cas’s sleepy voice and said, “Just a few more minutes, alright? And then I’ll get up.”

“Alright.” Cas yawned. “But then we have to go.”

It didn’t take much longer before they were both asleep.


	24. exchanging gifts

“Are you ready?”

Cas gave the gift in front of him one last look, then adjusted the big red bow in the center. Perfect. “I’m coming!”

Dean was sitting on the couch in the living room, holding a beautifully wrapped present with an excited grin on his face. His eyes lit up as Cas entered. “Ooh, what’s that?”

“You’re about to unwrap it, Dean,” Cas said as he sat beside him. He felt a little nervous, for some reason, even though he was pretty sure Dean was going to like what he’d gotten him. Giving gifts always made Cas anxious; a side effect of being relatively new to humanity was that he often felt unsure about traditions like this. “You can wait two minutes.”

“Why did you want to do this after Jack had gone to bed?” Dean leaned in playfully and wiggled his eyebrows. “Is it something… sexy?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “No, I just thought we’d like to do this privately. Anyway, I don’t think that’s an appropriate Christmas gift.”

“Maybe not to  _ you _ .” Dean laughed, an easy, warm sound. “Alright, you wanna open mine first? And then I’ll open yours.” He knew Cas got anxious about gifts, so he smiled softly and squeezed Cas’s thigh. “I know I’m gonna love it, whatever it is.”

“I hope so.”

“I will,” Dean said with complete certainty. Then, with the excitement palpable on his face, he handed Cas his gift. It was rectangular and wrapped in a lovely green and red patterned paper. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

He ripped into the paper carefully, not wanting to completely destroy the work Dean had put in, and found a journal inside. It was leatherbound, clearly handmade and carefully crafted. Cas ran his fingertips across the cover.

“It’s a nature journal,” Dean said as Cas flipped through the blank pages. “You take notes and sketch different things you see, plants and insects and stuff. I thought you’d like it for your walks.”

“Dean…” Cas looked at the journal, then up at Dean, who was waiting eagerly for his response—he was so beautiful in that moment, like he was in all the other moments. “This is amazing.”

“You like it?”

“I love it.” Cas took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him gently. In the back of his mind, he wondered how many more times in his life he’d think he loved Dean as much as he possibly could, and then fall more deeply in love; it seemed to happen almost every day. “Thank you. Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean smiled fondly, cheeks a little pink. “I, uh, I hope it’s useful.”

“I can’t wait to use it.” Cas smiled back, already thinking of all the things he wanted to make a note of in there—the blue jay that often visited their backyard was first on the list, then maybe he’d catalog some of the wildflowers that grew out back of their house. 

“Good.” Dean looked at Cas happily for a moment, but it wasn’t long before his gaze drifted toward Cas’s gift for him; he was always a sucker for a present. “Can I open it? The suspense is killing me, man.”

“Yes, open it.”

Cas wondered, then, if he should qualify it first, offer some explanation, but Dean was already tearing excitedly into the package. The box fell out into Dean’s lap, and as he turned it over in his hands, he let out a soft, “Oh.”

“I hope it’s alright,” He said nervously. The little box was handmade; he’d scoured the internet for somebody who would still make tape shelves in this day and age, and fortunately, found somebody interested and willing to. Cas was really pleased with how it turned out. The wood was beautifully carved, detailed but simple. “It’s small, I know, but it should hold all of your tapes. So you don’t have to just keep them in a pile in a drawer.”

Dean’s expression was difficult to read as he turned the little shelf over in his hands. There was one tape already inserted in there, and he pulled it out with interest. Cas took a deep breath. Moment of truth. “What’s this?”

“I made you a mixtape.” Dean flipped it over and saw the title: ‘Cas’s Top Ten Favorite Songs.’ “You’ve always made them for me, and I love that. So I thought I’d make you one with music I like.”

“Cas, this is…” Dean swallowed hard, and Cas realized he was near tears. “I, uh… I don’t know what to say.”

He smiled. “Say you like it.”

“You kidding me, Cas? I love it. It’s the best gift you could’ve gotten me.” Dean set the shelf aside carefully and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you so much. I love you.”

Cas pressed a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw. “I love you too.”

“Just tell me one thing,” Dean said as he pulled away, smiling so warmly that Cas was tempted to kiss him again.

“Anything.”

“How many Lizzo songs are on here?”

Cas laughed. “I guess you’ll just have to listen and see.”

“Well,” Dean said, still grinning happily. “I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is having a really wonderful Christmas Eve! Check back tomorrow for the final chapter :)


	25. christmas morning

Christmas morning was hectic at Cas and Dean’s house.

Jack had been up a little past seven, knocking hesitantly on their door to go open presents. Then it was a whirlwind of exchanging gifts; Dean thought they may have gone a little overboard with all of the things they gave to Jack, but the look of pure joy on his face as he unwrapped each one made it seem alright to him. Even Miracle was in on the excitement of the holiday, hopping around joyfully as Cas showed him his gift—a box of new tennis balls. Jack was immediately delighted by this, and started playing fetch with him right in the middle of the living room. 

“Okay, cool it, kid,” Dean said, half-laughing at the scene. “Take it outside before you break a window.”

“Alright,” Jack said enthusiastically; he showed no signs of exhaustion from being up so early. “Miracle, come on!”

Cas, walking out of the kitchen with his second cup of coffee, just barely dodged the two goofballs running past. “Put your coat on,” He said after them.

“I did!” Jack called back, already halfway out the door.

Dean sighed as he surveyed their living room. It looked like a Christmas-themed tornado had come through. “I swear, Cas, it gets messier every year.”

“It’s only going to get worse.” Cas plopped down on the couch and took a long sip of his coffee. Jack had jammed a Santa hat on his head first thing this morning, and he still hadn’t taken it off; Dean thought he looked pretty cute in it. “Sam and Eileen just called to say they’re almost here.”

“They’d better be careful.” Dean glanced out the window at the thick layer of snow covering everything. “It came down pretty hard last night.”

“Sam assured me they had gone slowly.”

“Good.” Dean bent down to start collecting the discarded wrapping paper strewn across the living room. As he did so, he felt Cas’s eyes on him; he glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “You like the view?”

“Of course, Dean. I always do.” Cas grinned back. “Come sit down with me. The wrapping paper isn’t hurting anybody.”

He thought about arguing, but he was tired, and their couch seemed inviting, so he abandoned the clean-up job—Sam and Eileen wouldn’t care. He sat down beside Cas, and said, “You’re a bad influence.”

“ _ I’m  _ a bad influence?” Cas laughed a little, and something about the bright warmth in his eyes, about his sweatpants and his ridiculous Santa hat, made Dean’s breath catch in his chest. God, sometimes he couldn’t believe that he had this. That he had Cas. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“I love you, y’know,” Dean said, unable to stop himself from blurting it out. It was funny; after so many years of never being able to say it, never allowing himself to even  _ think  _ it, ‘I love you’ came out of his mouth so easily now. “And I love our kids and our family. I love our life.”

Cas’s smile softened. “Me too.”

“I mean, when I was a kid, I dreamed about a Christmas like this. To just feel normal, to be with people I love…” Dean said, looking intently at the man next to him. It was hitting him as he said it, just how incredibly and insanely perfect his life had somehow turned out. “Jesus, Cas, this is… this is everything.”

Cas didn’t say anything, just leaned in and kissed Dean lovingly, soft and slow. When he pulled away, he kept one hand on Dean’s shoulder where the handprint had once been. “Thank you,” He said, voice low.

“For what?”

“For giving me this.” Cas’s eyes were so blue. “For showing me this was possible.”

Dean looked at him there, and not for the first time, found himself at a complete loss for words. What could he say to sum up everything he felt, to sum up all of that love and trust and joy?

Turned out, he didn’t need to worry, because at that exact moment, the screen door in the kitchen banged open. Miracle came sprinting into the living room, a laughing Jack close behind him—both of them were dusted in snow.

“Sorry!” Jack said breathlessly, grinning so brightly that Dean couldn’t even be irritated that he was tracking in snow. “Miracle wanted to come inside.”

The dog barked beside him, as if on cue. The image of them both there, covered in a fine powder and ridiculously adorable, a puddle of water growing around them, could have been a Christmas card. Cas and Dean exchanged amused glances, both of them wondering how best to deal with the mess.

And out the window, Dean noticed Sam’s weird little eco-friendly car pulling into the driveway. He almost wanted to laugh; even in his post-hunting life, things always seemed to happen all at once. “They’re here. Uh, Jack, why don’t you change into some warm clothes? And Cas, I’ll help them unload everything if you towel off Miracle?”

Cas was already on his feet. He grinned. “Never a dull moment.”

“Never.” Dean smiled back at him. He could see Sam and Eileen getting out of the car, laughing to one another about something, and Jack was carefully picking his way across the living room, water dripping behind him, and Cas was happy and looking at Dean. Against all odds, they’d made it. They were all here together. “Merry Christmas to us, huh?”

Cas laughed. Dean knew he’d spend the rest of his life listening to that sound. “Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just like that, it's done! This has been such a fun challenge for the holiday season, and I can't explain how grateful I am for all the kind words and support. I hope you've found some happiness in these silly little fluffy stories, because I definitely have. Merry Christmas!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated if you're so inclined
> 
> Come yell at me about these two on my [tumblr!](https://angelwingsdean.tumblr.com/)


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